


Perfect Strangers

by MissLii



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Liam, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Prince Harry Styles, Servant Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLii/pseuds/MissLii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam’s never much understood the upper class’ type of food; he prefers the simple kind of food Niall cooks for them on their own time, maybe pasta or a burger. </p><p>He keeps his face carefully blank, but not so much that he looks bored. It’s a fine line to walk, easy to trip over. Smiling means flirting to so many of these men, and Liam prefers not to have their hands on him. </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Or: A Modern day Royal AU where Harry’s a prince and Liam’s a servant.</em> </p><p>  <em>Liam's been in service since he was sixteen, and once Harry used to be his friend. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on prompt nineteen over at the [Lirry Big Bang](http://lirrybigbang.tumblr.com/prompts), but I've decided to post this now.
> 
> Thanks to Diane for the support. Any remaining mistakes are all because of me.

He’s a servant, not a slave. It’s something he tells himself quite often, mostly to make himself feel better. He could leave if he wanted to; slaves aren’t even allowed anymore, it’s not the eighteen hundreds. Not even the royalty like Liam works for can own people nowadays, fortunately. Liam’s paycheck might be small but he’s his own person, and he’s glad for that. 

It’s not like he’s got a whole lot of things going for himself outside of the palace, where he spends the little free time he’s got. The friends he’s managed to make are people he works with, and they are all just like him, normal lads who enjoy the small things in life. Not ridiculous and shiny art that hang on the walls, of which Liam neither understands nor likes the look of very much. 

He’s just been told to be careful around the vases and other loose items. He’s glad he’s not in charge of dusting them, he surely would break something in no time, and then he’d be out of a job. Liam’s never really been on his own, the people he works with are something like his family now, when he doesn’t have one anymore. 

One good thing about his work is that Queen Anne is far nicer than most regal people Liam’s met – than Liam’s seen, more like it. He doesn’t know any of them – doesn’t look at them in case he doesn’t have to. There was a time when he thought one of them cared about him, but he’s not that naïve anymore. He’s just Liam, ordinary and plain; he’s just there to keep things tidy. Liam’s seen the folk the kids in the family – if Liam now can call them kids when he’s not older than any of them. And he might be innocent in some ways, but he’s not a kid, far from it. 

He could be a lot worse off, out on the street like so many orphan boys outside of the system. Instead, he’s inside and are treated well by the family, the little time he actually spends with them. They all have their own personal servants, and Liam’s not that kind of servant. He’s just a lowly foot servant that does things like cleaning out the Prince’s breakfast when he’s still in bed, lazily checking his phone as he openly ignores Liam. 

It’s better when they ignore him, both the family and their guests. But most of them act like he’s not even in the room, don’t talk to him unless it’s an order. It comes with the job, Liam supposes, so he just takes the harsh words with a small nod, doing just what they ask of him.

It’s the easiest thing to do. Louis, who works with Liam, isn’t allowed to serve wine anymore. Not after the incident when Louis poured red wine into a guest’s lap.

The fact that the Earl grabbed his bum beforehand was what made Queen Anne accept his apology – that they all could tell didn’t come from Louis’ heart. He didn’t even try to fool anyone, eyes still cold and hard.

Liam’s learned to be invisible in a crowd, hunch his shoulders so he seems small even though the hard work has given him some muscles in his arms and chest. He’s not a boy anymore, nineteen years old he’s grown taller and wider. It’s only made some of the high and mighty guests treat him worse, but Liam reckons that’s better, he’s even more uncomfortable with the attention some men and women give him and the other servants.

It’s like they forget that they’re _proper_ people after one or two glasses of wine, pinches in improper places making Liam blush and bite his lip to keep quiet.

It’s not his place to tell on them; he’s after all the lowest rank there. Way below the royalty, and it’s not his place to tell. Even though Queen Anne seems like a nice woman, he rather not take his chances. She treated Louis well, but it’s one thing for a person to lose his patience once, and another to be a bother. 

Liam doesn’t want to be a bother for anyone, not even when he’s not done anything wrong. Not really. 

Louis would say he’s entitled to be angry about things, but Liam’s sure that’s wrong when you work at a place like they do. There are laws and stuff about sexual harassment, but Liam’s not sure anyone would believe half the things he could tell anyway. 

Why would a judge believe a curly haired bloke like Liam, who’ve nothing but his innocent eyes and careful smile to tell he’s honest. Over some man more than twice his age, who they’ve gone to the same fancy school as. 

With his luck, he would get stuck with someone from the same bloody class even. 

It might not be the best-paid job, but he wasn’t the best student, and without his mum and dad alive, he had even less motivation to get his grades. Without his parents, there was no way to pay for school and even less for a home and food. His mum worked at the palace as a maid for the Queen when she was younger, before she got Liam. It was only on those merits, he managed to get the job. 

He’s been at the Palace since he was a kid, just shy of sixteen when he first set his foot at the dauntingly big building. It took him forever not to get lost in the hallways.

It was there he first met a curly haired boy with huge green eyes, and though he had fancier clothes than Liam’s ever worn, Liam never understood that the boy was the _prince_. Not that it matters, now Prince Harry acts like the childish games they played never happened. 

They were both too old, the hide and seek in the long corridors with countless of doors into rooms Liam’s up until this day isn’t sure what’s inside all of them. But it was fun, something to take his mind off how hard it was to be away from home for the first time. 

(Sometimes Liam doubts it himself, the from those days Harry so different from the person Prince Harry is now. Sometimes he wonders if it all was a weird dream, some sort of hallucination caused by long hours of work and too few of sleep.)

Liam dreams of those days sometimes, it was before he and Louis got along, and back then Prince Harry was the only friend he had. He’s glad he never complained about the royal family to him, thinking he was just like Liam. 

As it is, it’s bad enough that one of his employers knows he was playing silly games instead of helping the cleaning maids with minor errands. 

At the moment, they haven’t got a king. It’s just Queen Anne, her eldest daughter Gemma who’s next in line for the throne. She’s such a pretty girl, tall and with pointed features that make her look like she’s born to be a royal no matter what she wears. Liam’s sure he would have had a crush on her, if he wasn’t so sure girls just wasn’t for him. He’s met plenty of stunningly pretty girl but so far in his life, nobody has made him feel a thing. 

At first, it made him worry, wonder if something was wrong with him. He knew it was okay, of course, but he honestly wanted to want to kiss someone. It was hard, but then he figured out that it just wasn’t girls that made his stomach feel tight and warm. 

There are lots of attractive lads in the palace. Louis is one of them, and while Louis is his friend and he’s never wanted to kiss Louis, it’s hard not to notice. 

Then there’s Harry, who Liam’s grown up alongside. But still, they live such different lives. It’s just that Liam once thought Harry was like him, that they had something in common besides the air they breathe when they’re in the same room. 

Liam’s scolds himself mentally every time he forgets Prince Harry’s title, even if it’s just in his own head. 

The royal family might not have political power like the once did, but they are still important people. It’s not for him to be on first name basis with one of them. Though, Prince Harry once told him to call him Hazza. Liam can’t believe he fell for that, so taken in by the gangly teenage boy that was just _so_ fun and lovely, that he forgot everything he’d been told about the family he just started working for. 

Liam doesn’t think they’re on first name basis anymore. 

Prince Harry’s different than what Liam thought he was. He’s colder, in every way. It’s not just that he doesn’t talk to Liam anymore, not even when it’s just him and Liam in a room. He doesn’t seem to feel as much anymore.

Or maybe it’s just that he doesn’t let anyone see _how_ he feels. 

Liam can’t imagine anyone being that heartless, no matter what the tabloids say about Harry and his way with the women and men he dates, nobody that lasts more than two dates before they’re replaced by someone else. 

Sometimes he’s so close to saying something stupidly honest to Prince Harry. Sometimes he smiles at Harry instead of ducking his head respectfully like he’s supposed to. It’s like the prince doesn’t know how to handle that, a confused wrinkle between his eyebrows before he looks just as snooty as before. 

“How many people do you think Prince Dick will flirt with tonight?” Louis asks, cloth in hand. He’s supposed to polish Harry’s leather boots, worth more than both their paycheck for a month probably, but he’s not even started yet. “We should bet on if it’s more than the last time, he even tried it with that ambassador's wife.”

Niall, one of the chef’s assistants who’s on a break and visits the small room beside the kitchen where Liam and Louis do some or their work – when they’re not supposed to be seen – laughs but Liam doesn’t. Louis thinks it’s because he’s still got a hard time letting go of his job.

It’s not. Liam doesn’t get stiff every time someone makes a joke at their employer’s expense like he did in the beginning.

It’s just that Liam wants to protest every time Louis calls Harry a dick, which happens quite often. He wants to say that Harry is perfectly nice, that he’s funny and has got the loveliest grin Liam’s ever seen. Though, now Harry’s all sharp smiles that's so plastic and wrong Liam feels unsettled. Liam’s not sure if the smirk on Harry's lips when he tries to pull is worse or better. 

It’s such a long time Liam’s seen that wide, dimpled smile that he stays quiet. It’s still hard to laugh along, no matter how much he likes Louis. Who’s a bit like the brother he never got before his parents passed away.

Liam’s not sure if ‘Prince Dick’ comes from Harry being rude to someone, or if it is because of his reputation for sleeping with everyone.

Niall shakes his head with a bright smile on his lips. “Don’t think I can afford to lose once more, mate.”

Liam didn’t get in on the wager the last time. It’s more that he finds it wrong to put money on things like that, than it is that he’s trying to save up. 

“Sometimes I think he’s making it harder for himself, poor bloke,” Louis tuts, shaking his head. He drops the shoes to the floor, putting his own used vans on the desk – they’re not really permitted as a part of their uniform, but Louis couldn’t care less about things like that, though he cleans up nice when he wants to. 

Liam’s own shoes are spotless, a lot nicer than the well-worn boots Harry must plan on wearing for the party later that night. Liam picks up one shoe from the floor, snatching the cloth from Louis’ hand with a fond roll of his eyes. Times like this, he tends to pick up and finish Louis’ job – he’s quite fond of Louis even though he’s a pain in Liam’s arse sometimes, his work uniform more than once wet from one of Louis’ jokes. 

It’s probably his crinkly-eyed grin and unstoppable giggles that cause Louis to make him the victim most of the time. He’s gotten better at getting back at Louis, though. 

“I think he does pretty well for himself,” Liam says, wondering on what island Louis’ been the last few times. As far as he knows, Harry rarely leaves the party on his own. He’s not very discreet about it, which Liam would have expected from someone like him. 

If his own mum had looked as disapproving, if only for a short second, he’d never leave his room. 

“I don’t mean it like that, Liam,” Louis says, pushing at Liam with his toes when he pays the boot more attention than him. “I think even the queen knows what her son is up to. Or down to, maybe I should say.” He pauses, wiggling his eyebrows to make sure that they both get his pun. 

Liam snorts, trying not to laugh, but Niall tips his head back and lets out a laugh. Louis looks proud of himself, and adds, “I just meant that he didn’t have to hit on more and more ridiculous people every time. Soon he’ll try it with someone’s that’s ninety-nine years old, for fuck’s sake.”

“He would so,” Niall agrees, reaching his fist out to Louis for a bump. He eyes the work Liam’s trying to do and settles for bumping his foot against Liam’s ankle. 

Liam giggles and shakes his head. The thing is that he’s pretty sure Harry would succeed with _anyone_ , even old ladies if that was his thing. 

“Soon it’s one of the staff, I bet,” Niall says, still with a wide grin on his lips. 

Louis snorts and makes a face, clearly amused. “None of us would buy into that.”

Liam’s not sure if that’s true. He’s heard the girls whisper in the halls, and he’s got eyes; Prince Harry is plenty fit, and even without his title he’d be a catch. 

“I’m sure he’s nice,” Liam says, not wanting to insult someone that’s not there to defend himself. 

“You’re probably right. Only time will tell, I’d say,” Niall says, eyes twinkling with something when he turns his head towards Liam again; Liam feels a bit like Niall’s the smartest one out of them all, like he can see right through them all. 

Sometimes he knows things about them even before they figure it out. He’s not a teasing shit about it as Louis would have been, a bit more gentle about it. 

“I’ll put a bet on it anyway,” Louis laughs, raising his eyebrows as he looks between Niall and Liam. “But we need someone to bet against. Otherwise, it’s no fun. I don’t think Liam will be the one since he thinks Prince Dick is fucking nice now.”

“I still think betting is a bad idea,” Liam mutters, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“We need something to make tonight less boring,” Louis complains, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not as fun when you can’t sneak a sip of wine now and then.”

“About that,” Niall says as he stands up. It’s luck he’s on good terms with his boss since he spends more time with them some days. “I’ve got plenty to do before it starts, unlike you two lazy arses.”

“Hey,” Liam says, waving the boot around; it’s clean by now, but with it, it at least looks like he’s doing his job properly. “ _I’m_ not a lazy arse.”

Niall shrugs his shoulder. “I’d say Louis’ been rubbing off on you.”

Louis starts laughing at once, causing Liam to wrinkle his nose because he knows what’s Louis is going to say even before he opens his mouth. “I’ve not been rubbing off on Liam. Niall, you know you’re the one I turn to if I want someone to rub off on.”

Yeah, there is was. Liam rolls his eyes and pushes Louis’ feet down from the desk. It’s hard not to giggle when Louis yelps and swears. “Less talking about that.” He doesn’t need all the details again. Once was enough to paint a vivid image about that Louis and Niall sometimes do after a few pints.

Maybe Liam should take that as a sign that he doesn’t have to wait for someone special to have sex with the first time. He could find someone close and convenient. Liam knows Niall is special to Louis, and Louis to Niall, but not in the way Liam wants someone to be special to him. It’s just that they don’t really do labels, for whatever reason they’re telling this week.

It feels to Liam like they’ll figure it out sometimes. Liam’s never seen Louis be so happy around anyone else, and he wants what’s best for his best mate. And that must be Niall. 

The difference between what they have is that Liam wants to know that the person he ends up in bed with, is someone that’ll stay the next morning. Liam’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be very good at the whole one night stand thing. 

It feels childish to say that he’s waiting for a charming prince to come into his life and sweep him off of his feet. He knows very well that princes aren’t that charming, anyway. At least, not the ones he’s met. 

“Aren’t you going to tell us that it’s not allowed to fuck a co-worker now again,” Louis says, making quotation marks with his fingers. Liam can’t remember saying that, but he might have – he used to be a bit more intense about the rules. 

Well, he still is when it comes to himself. It’ just that he’s given up on Louis. Niall gets away with a lot, just because of his sunny smile. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to do half the things you do,” Liam says, shaking his head even though he’s still smiling. It times like this when he likes his job when he’s locked away in a room with mates, and he doesn’t have to think about what he says. Then he can be himself. “That’s not stopped you once.”

Niall closes the door when he leaves, and Liam rolls his eyes when he notices that Louis is looking after him. They’re proper idiots about each other, he thinks. Neither of them cares about rules the way Liam does. 

The boots are done, so now the only thing left is to make sure that Prince Harry gets them in time. They’re a bit uneven because of use, and Liam doesn’t understand why someone so rich, someone who spends so much on clothes, chooses to wear these brown leather boots. 

There’s not much he understands when it comes to the prince, though. 

“Is it my or your turn this time?” Liam asks, wondering if he could get out of it by widening his eyes and pouting – it’s more or less stopped working on Louis by now, and most often he gets pinched for even trying instead of getting whatever he’s after.

“I’m pretty sure it’s actually your time this time,” Louis says, sounding gleeful that he can stay right where he is, feet back up at the desk again. 

“Fine.” Liam sighs and makes sure that his white shirt is buttoned properly. 

“Don’t think our little lord minds some skin, Payno,” Louis teases, the wriggle of his eyebrows seemingly suggest something dirty. 

“I’m pretty sure he couldn’t care less,” Liam says, sure he’s actually right. He’s not pretty like the girls Prince Harry openly parades around, or handsome like the boys he’s almost as open with. 

It was quite a scandal, a royal that was so open about it. He’s never said anything, of course, but that doesn’t mean the magazines don’t speculate about his love life.

Liam thinks it all is a bit invasive; he would hate to have people question what he did or didn’t do, the way they do to Harry. 

“We all know he likes you better than the rest of us,” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes once more. 

Liam blinks slowly, confused to why Louis would even say such a thing. Prince Harry probably doesn’t even know his name. 

“Well, except for Niall then, but that’s because he’s Niall, isn’t it,” Louis continues with a fond smile, probably not even aware of how soft he looks, suddenly. 

“You would say that,” Liam says as he takes the few steps towards the door. 

“What do you mean by that?” Louis yells after him, but Liam ignores him. He’s smiling when he hurries down the corridor, the boots in a tight grip.

There’s something about going to a Prince Harry’s private room that makes him nervous; hands getting clammy just from the thought that he might be there. _Might_. Liam shouldn’t care, it’s been years since he first met the royal family, and while he’s got respect for the women in the family, but he’s never nervous around them. 

Not unless he’s carrying a tray around, or is close to something extra valuable – Liam’s happily unaware about what things really costs, it’s easier not to move around stiffly, when he doesn’t know. But then it’s not really them he’s nervous about, so that might not even count. 

Nowadays, he knows every twist and turns in the palace, so he can let his mind wander. If Louis and Niall weren’t so hopeless, he wouldn’t have to try to figure out a good way to make them understand that they’re not ‘just mates’. 

Liam’s pondering if locking them in a closet is too cliche. If it would even work, like it always does in the movies. 

He knocks the door lightly, soft touches of his knuckles, and then he waits. He’s not interested in walking in on Harry with someone, like some of the servants have. 

Liam might be one of the few people in the palace that's not seen Prince Harry’s dick, but that’s mostly because Liam’s very good at keeping his eyes on the floor. 

He waits, and when no one says anything, he carefully opens the door. The room, beautifully decorated with dark maroon red and beige, isn’t empty like he expected it to be. Like he hoped it was.

“Oh,” Liam says and takes a slow step forward. “Your highness,” he then remembers to add, knowing his supervisor would be furious if he didn’t. Liam hopes there’s not cameras in the corridors to keep track of them. 

Though, in that case Louis would be fired ages ago, with the whole ‘Prince Dick’ nickname. And Niall too, since he’s taken the liberty to throw parties in his room more than once. 

“What do you want now?” Prince Harry says rather rudely from the bed, and Liam frowns. He doesn’t understand what he does wrong, why Harry seems to think so much less of him now. 

“Just to leave you your boots,” Liam hurries to explain; he forces himself forward even though he would much rather just take a step back and shut the door again. “You wanted them for tonight’s gathering, I understand, your highness.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Prince Harry says as he pushes the sheets away and stands up, stretching his arms up. His groan is long and deep, and it’s what causes Liam to forget about not looking at Harry – who apparently sleeps naked. 

Yeah, now Liam’s another one of the persons that’s seen the royal dick – Liam knows Louis would love it, if he said that out loud, and it what makes Liam snort out a loud laugh, quickly putting a hand over his mouth. 

Liam’s whole face feels like it’s on fire, and he just knows that his cheeks are blotchy pink. He’s never been as embarrassed before, and if he doesn’t get fired now, he’s the luckiest bloke in this palace, including Harry who is a prince and therefore has been brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth. 

“So sorry, your highness,” Liam says, clasping his hands on his back as he averts his eyes. He’s really been staring for too long. 

“No, it’s okay,” Prince Harry mutters as he walks over to the dresser, pulling on his clothes slowly. Liam feels like he can breathe again when Prince Harry is wearing trousers, though they’re so tight it’s hard to ignore how he looks underneath. 

“Great,” Liam says slowly, shifting from foot to foot. “Anything else you want me to do for you, Harry?”

Prince Harry smirks, a flowery shirt in his hands as he turns his eyes on Liam again. Liam swallows, feeling his mouth go dry. 

“I could think of a thing or two,” Harry murmurs, voice smoother than before. It’s all he says, and Liam blushes harder for some reason, not really sure why.

He’s pretty sure that Prince Harry’s hinting at something, and it’s a bit too much when he’s still half naked. Liam’s never seen a royalty with so many tattoos, twenty years old and skin already filled with black ink. 

Liam’s never seen them before, always so good at not looking even though Prince Harry doesn’t seem ashamed to wander around like he does. 

Liam waits, doing his best to stay still and not fidget. It’s not the easiest for him, as always full of restless energy that makes his heels bounce up and down or fingers fiddle with something, whatever is the closest. 

It’s not his thing to hurry Prince Harry, even though he’s got a long list written down over small tasks to be done. He bites his lip, tugging at it as he keeps his eyes on Harry’s bare feet. 

“Another time,” Prince Harry says, turning his back to Liam in clear dismissal. 

It’s not until he’s out of the room and he can breathe properly again; he remembers that he forgot to address Prince Harry as he should. He didn’t say anything, and if Liam didn’t read him wrong, he seemed almost pleased by it.

Then there’s the thing that he thinks Prince Harry might have been flirting with him.

Liam’s confused, to say the least. But he doesn’t have time to think about it, not when he’s got so many things to do before the party. 

– – –

Liam’s never much understood the upper class’ type of food; he prefers the simple kind of food Niall cooks for them on their own time, pasta or a burger. 

He keeps his face carefully blank, but not so much that he looks bored. It’s a fine line to walk, easy to trip over. Smiling means flirting to so many of these men, and Liam prefers not to have their hands on him. 

He’s a walking, non-talking tray. Not that Liam’s ever seen a talking tray, mind you, but the thought of it makes him giggle to himself before he remembers where he is. 

Liam sees Prince Harry at the party, about an hour into it. Harry’s in the middle of the bright room, as he should be, as he drinks some red wine, distantly staring at nothing while a handsome bloke talks to him.

Liam can’t hear what they say, but he’s still unable to take his eyes off of them. They would make a great couple, but he knows that Prince Harry’s more likely to move on to another just a pretty person the next day.

Everybody knows, Liam reckons, and only the ones that’s got a too big imagination would think that they could get something more out of him.

There’re so many guests, many of them repeat visitors. He’s never seen Prince Harry’s company before, and he walks their way without thinking. Liam’s not a nosy person, he would say – he doesn't read the rags that write page after page about the royal family – but he’s still curious. 

It’s easy telling himself that he’s just doing his job, keeping the tray held high as he works his way through the crowd. 

He is, after all; his blindingly white shirt – the same colour as the teeth on many of the guest, bleached into perfection just like every part of them, it’s not weird Liam feels out of place among them, just an ordinary lad that hopes to someday be something bigger than his – and pressed black pants separating his from the guests. 

Prince Harry looks bored even though the sparkling glasses with wine and tiny sandwich things Liam’s got on his tray – canapes, Liam’s learned that word, but he’s never going to use it the same way they do. It’s not his kind of party. Liam much prefers the stuffed feeling of the lads having a great time in one of their small rooms. 

Harry’s grown up to like this so he should like this. But maybe the shine gets less shiny after a while, countless of handshakes later maybe it’s not as fun anymore. 

Just as he’s about to reach Prince Harry and what Liam assumes is his latest finding, Harry tips his head back and laughs. The sound of it over the babble of people chatting, makes him take a sudden turn and walk straight back from where he was coming from. 

If Louis noticed, he’s sure if for a ribbing later. He must have looked ridiculous, going straight for the prince as if he was a price in some sort of race. Liam didn’t even stop to offer any of the guest's anything on the way back. 

He does better on his next round, even smiling politely at an elderly lady that reminds him of someone’s gran. 

The next time Liam has time to glance over at Prince Harry, almost bumping into a table before he sidesteps just in the last second, Harry’s got a hand on the man’s shoulder and his head tilted as he looks him up and down slowly. 

Liam doesn’t want to see what happens next. It’ll only take Prince Harry a few more minutes, and then he’ll get what he wants. He always does. 

Liam’s feet have started to hurt, floor too hard with the kind of shoes he wears. It’s dark outside now, and the guest is louder. Alcohol does that to people. 

Liam’s traded to carrying around a tray of champagne, and it’s harder to balance. One slip and the expensive crystal glasses will crash to the floor. 

“Look who we’ve here,” Louis whispers, sneaking up on him from behind. Liam just barely manages to hold onto the tray, everything swaying dangerously. Even without seeing Louis, Liam knows he’s grinning. 

He such a little shit, and he should be lucky that Liam loves him nowadays. 

“Louis,” he complains, a whine in his voice. “You really scared me.” One of the new girls take the tray from him when he turns around to pout at Louis, and he drops his arms to the side. 

She’s probably been ordered to take over, so Liam takes it as his cue to take a small break. 

His arm tingles, muscles screaming that he needs a rest. It’s been hours of work, and it feels to Liam like the party should be over. It’s probably a lot more fun for the guests than him, though, so they’re probably happy to carry on for quite a while. 

He’s not seen Louis in a long time, he now realises, and Louis looks too happy to have been working.

“What’ve you done this time?” Liam asks, not sure he wants to know more of Louis’ secrets. He quite likes not having to walk around with cheeks pink and warm. 

Louis taps his nose with a finger, and Liam’s not sure what that means. Is it a secret signal he’s never learned? 

“What you don’t know you don’t have to worry about,” Louis says, but his eyebrows and smirk tell Liam as much as he needs to know.

“You should be careful,” Liam says, feeling like a parent to Louis when he’s really the younger of them. “Don’t want you to get caught.”

Louis shrugs, looking unbothered. “You don’t have to worry.” He pokes at Liam’s shoulder. “You should have some fun yourself. Not good for you to be so tense all the time.”

It’s an old _argument_. Liam knows what Louis means. 

“It’s not like I’ve a Niall.” Liam laughs at Louis’ face, how much he obviously wants to protest that he doesn't have a _Niall_ either. “I’ve no one to snog in a cupboard, do I?”

Liam knows he’s made a mistake when Louis’ grin widens, all sharp, white teeth. Maybe he shouldn’t have teased Louis, and then set himself up with that question? Louis is never mean to Liam, would defend him like he’s his little brother, but he’s happy to tease him. 

It’s the way brothers act, Liam reckons, so he’s really quite happy about it. 

“We could work that out for you,” Louis says as he scans the room, eyes going from one person to the next as if he’s trying to find someone fitting for Liam. 

Liam doesn’t think anyone is this room would be right for him, though. Anyway, Louis dislikes the upper class so much, that Liam’s pretty confident that Louis will not find anyone. Liam can’t even imagine the embarrassment of being set up with one of them. 

How would that even work? They would surely have nothing to talk about. Though, Louis would probably suggest something else they could do instead. 

“You know what,” Liam says as he takes a step back, as if Louis would bodily pull him back and push him towards the nearest bloke. “I’ll need to go and find –” his mind comes up blank, he just wants to avoid an awkward set-up that’s not even allowed. “Something.”

Louis frowns as he walks away, as if Liam just ruined his fun. Louis has had his _fun_ , though. Liam’s sure Niall made sure of that. So Louis will just have to deal. 

He’ll make it up to Louis later, maybe let him win the next time they wrestle. Liam will have to be discreet about it; Louis will pinch him below the ribs, just where he’s the most ticklish if he figures it out. 

Louis likes winning, but he wants to beat Liam fair and square. Or, if that doesn’t work, he also accepts to win by using every trick he knows. 

Just going back to his bed and pulling his duvet over himself seems like a tempting option. He’s got work in just a few hours, his regular chores not disappearing just because he works a late night. 

He won’t actually do it; he would just feel bad for making the rest of the staff work harder. 

Liam’s not noticing him at first, and when he does he comes to a sudden stop. Prince Harry looks out of place in the corridor where the servants have their tiny rooms. 

As far as Liam knows, Prince Harry hasn’t been there in years. Even more, surprisingly is that he is alone. 

Liam tries to keep his head down, takes a step to the side to make sure not to be in the way, but Prince Harry reaches out and takes hold of his wrist.

Liam’s heart leaps in his chest, shock rushing through him, and he comes to a sudden stop. He’s speechless, just blinking slowly at Prince Harry as he takes a step closer. To make sure that they don’t get _too_ close, he’s been thought to keep a distance all the time, he takes a step back.

The wall stops him from going further, cold against his back as he pushes himself flat against it. Prince Harry’s hold on him is not strong, just a soft press of fingers against Liam’s beating pulse. He could get out of it easily.

But he kind of doesn’t want to. There’s something about how Prince Harry looks at him that makes him want to stay right there. Liam feels warm all over; face flushed pink and stomach twisting hotly. 

Liam’s never been as nervous before; he feels nauseous, but it’s not really a bad feeling. 

It’s so quiet he can hear himself swallow, and he can’t make himself look away from Harry's face. It feels wrong to call him _Prince_ Harry now that Harry’s touching him, but it’s still weird.

“Look who’ve here,” Harry mumbles, a slow smile spreading on his face. He presses a little closer, and then Liam can feel him against his body as Harry drops his wrist, and puts it on the wall next to his face. 

Liam stays quiet; sure he’d say the wrong thing if he said something. He feels tongue-tied anyway. He’s begging his body to stay calm, not to react to Harry’s warm body so close that he can feel everything of Harry. 

Liam wants him closer, still, and it’s making his head feel fuzzy. He knows it’s wrong, what he wants Harry to do to him, but he can’t remember why. 

“The prettiest servant of them all,” Harry says in that slow drawl of his, fingers tilting Liam’s head up.

Liam’s sure Harry’s only saying that to butter him up, but right then he doesn’t care that they probably do have prettier staff – Liam know Louis is a very attractive lad, though he doesn’t see him like that. He just wants Harry to take the last step and kiss him. 

“Bet you’d like to help me out, yeah?” Harry’s voice is suggestive, and Liam’s cheeks flame when he realises what Harry’s implying. “You’d not say no to me, would you?”

Snogging the prince is not in Liam’s work description, and what Harry’s implying seems kind of dirty. Liam’s still not saying no.

“I’m working,” Liam says lamely. He’s happy his cheeks are already bright pink. Otherwise, Harry would have noticed the new flush of blood rushing to his face. 

“I’d love to have you work for me,” Harry says, rubbing his thumb over Liam’s bottom lip. His eyes darken, and he leans forward slowly, hand slipping down to the back of Liam’s neck. 

A small sound slips out of him when Harry’s lips touch his. First, it’s just slow and sweet, small pecks against his lips, but then Harry deepens the kiss, tongue wet and insistent as he works Liam’s mouth opens. 

It’s Liam’s first kiss ever, and he’s not really sure what to do, but Harry seems happy, moaning softly as Liam tries to kiss back the best he can. 

Liam pants into Harry’s mouth, eyes closed as he’s kissed over and over. He’s so hard in his pants, just from kissing Harry, and he can’t help wondering how it’d feel to have Harry like this, only with fewer clothes.

He tips his head back when Harry starts trailing kisses down his neck. Liam’s hand grab at Harry’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric when Harry nips at the skin low on his neck. Liam wants Harry to leaves a mark on him, put love bites all over his skin, but at the same time, he knows it’s not a good idea. 

Without having to think about what he’s doing, as Harry does whatever he wants to him, his mind wanders. He starts _thinking_ again.

It’s like a cold shower, the hot rush of want in his body making him feel bad instead of good all of a sudden. 

Liam remembers Niall’s words about it being someone in the staff the next time. It’s not like it’s Harry who’s paying him, so it’s not totally wrong – he’s sure it says somewhere in the papers he signed that he’s not allowed to have a relationship with the staff – and he can only think that that would stand twice for someone in the royal family. 

The document was too long for him to read it all, even less remember half the things in it. 

Liam doesn’t want to be yet another of the line of people to warm Harry’s bed, only to be pushed out of it the next morning. If he even gets to stay there so long. Liam’s never been with anyone; Harry would be bored of him within minutes.

“I need to get back,” Liam says, repeating himself when Harry only hums something against his skin. Then he gets a reaction, Harry’s head snapping up.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but Liam doesn’t give him time to. He moves his hands out of Harry’s shirt, giving his shoulders a shove when Harry doesn’t move back, too confused about why Liam would want to stop. 

Liam reckons Harry’s not used to people saying no, not that Liam has done that. Maybe he should, but even though the weird feeling of being used, he wants this more than anything. 

Has he got a crush on Harry? Has he had it the whole time? Liam doesn’t know. He just knows that Harry’s hands felt good on him, and that Harry’s mouth is sinfully talented. 

Liam needs time to think; he can’t do that with Harry there. 

They’re only a few feet away from the door to Liam’s room and Liam’s glad that he didn’t think to offer Harry to come in – less risk of getting caught with the prince’s tongue in his mouth. In that case, he would probably never have stopped. 

He doesn’t look back at Harry when he tries to get his door open with his key, fingers shaking. There are no footsteps, so he knows Harry’s still there, though. 

Liam drops down on the bed, puts his head in his hands as he waits for his pulse to slow down. He’s so confused about what just happened – no, he knows that Harry kissed him, and he touches his lips, tries to feel if they feel different now than before. 

The quietness of his room makes it even harder to ignore the loud thoughts in his head. He’s not sure why Harry did what he did. 

Liam can’t have been the best option for Harry, just the most convenient. He was just _there_ when Harry wanted someone. Liam feels tired, suddenly, and he lies down on the bed with a sigh. 

He stays in his room, hoping with everything he’s got that Louis covers for him, so he’s still got a job tomorrow morning. If he even has one anymore, when he’s denied Prince Harry what he wanted. 

Liam _knows_ that the boy he knew a few years ago would never do such a thing. But he’s not sure about this Harry, who’s arrogant and rude most of the time, but also makes Liam want to kiss him again and again. Maybe it is because Liam’s got them both, this Harry and sixteen years old Harry mixed up in his head. 

People change, though, so Liam must try to be better at not thinking back to when Harry was simple to understand. For his own sake. 

It’s hard to fall asleep, both because he’s bailing from work – something Liam never, ever does – and because he’s just made out with the prince. Who is sort of his boss – it’s not like it’s Harry who signs his paycheck, Liam’s not even sure what Harry does when Gemma sits in meetings to learn everything she can – but he’s one of the persons Lam’s supposed to serve. 

It feels wrong and right at the same time. He doesn’t want to be used by someone. But if he agrees with it, it’s not like that anyway, is it? Then he’s not being used.

Just barely, he can hear the noises from the party upstairs. He wonders if Harry’s up there, having fun without him. Liam tells himself not to feel bitter about it; he was the one who left Harry there in the corridor. 

When he, _finally_ , falls asleep he dreams of princes and frogs. Luckily it’s not the frog he kisses, and Harry doesn’t turn into a frog when he kisses him. 

It’s a good dream. 

– – –

Liam knew that there would be questions. Louis is half asleep on the breakfast table when he gets to their common room, where they have simple chairs and tables and a sofa in the corner for the times when they’ve time off. 

When Liam walks into the room, Louis yawns but looks more awake at once. Liam knows he looks guilty.

“So,” Louis says after he’s looked Liam up and down, inspecting that he looks whole and unhurt. “Where did you go last night?”

“I felt a bit sick,” Liam says, putting all his focus on spreading butter on his toast. He doesn’t want to lie to Louis – in a way, he doesn’t; he _did_ feel sick, after realising that it’d never happen again, that Harry was just playing him like he does to everyone else. 

He knows he’s not supposed to have done what he did, but he did and now it’s for him to deal with. Louis shouldn’t know in case things go even more wrong; he shouldn’t have to take the fall for Liam just because Liam didn’t know how to keep his tongue in his mouth. 

Though, that’s kind of what Harry’s known for, so Liam wonders if this is something that’s happened before. If Liam’s not the first servant, he’s tried it with. 

Liam knows he shouldn’t feel upset about that, but he can’t help it. It feels worse thinking about Harry with someone like him, than with those unachievable people Liam’s so used to seeing him with.

“Should have just told us,” Louis huffs, though he looks like he wants to force Liam bodily into bed a feed him chicken soup. 

Harry didn’t leave any marks on him, and Liam knows it’s not visible what happened. He still feels like there’s a sign above his head that says ‘I made out with the prince’. 

“You just mad because you had to work like you’re supposed to, you lazy bum,” Liam says teasingly, starting to smile. It comes easily when it comes to Louis, the playfulness and the fond insults. 

“Bloody right,” Louis mumbles with a wicked smile, looking everything like the evil villain in a cartoon. “Just because of that I think you should do my morning run.”

“Um,” Liam mumbles as he tries to think of one good thing to say to get out of it. The morning run means going to Harry’s room, where Harry probably is. 

If Liam’s lucky, it’s just him there and not someone else he managed to go further with than Liam. 

He comes up with nothing, doesn’t find it right to even try when he’s kind of owing Louis to do it. “Fine,” he sighs. “I’m just going to eat my brekkie first.” 

Louis wriggles his eyebrows suggestively as he scoops up some cereals, dribbling milk on the table. Sometimes Liam wonders how he even can be a servant, the slob he is. 

“Don’t think that Prince Dick minds,” Louis says around the spoon. “He never came back to the party, so I’m sure he had his fun.”

Liam blushes when he get a flash of how it was, being with Harry like that. It’s weird to feel so attracted to someone, and still not know if you like them. Should he start defending Harry now? 

“It’s not like you ever are on time,” Liam says, getting an elbow in the side from Louis. It doesn’t hurt, but he almost loses his balance and falls off of the chair.

Then Louis shrugs and laughs. “You’re right about that; you want me to retell every stupid thing you missed?”

Liam nods and takes a bite if his toast. Louis is quite a storyteller, too, animated and fun. It’s always fun to hear about the latest scandal – people tend to forget about both manners and sense when they’re drunk. 

That’s why he knows it’s not a good idea, what he did with Harry. Nothing stays a secret in the palace. 

– – –

 

He’s running late when he decides he can’t wait any longer. Louis has started looking funny at him, as if he’s trying to figure out what’s on Liam’s mind. 

Liam’s pretty sure Louis isn’t a mind reader, but since he’s apparently a bloke that kisses princes, that might also be a real thing. If anyone could do it, it would so be Louis anyway. 

His mind has been a steady stream of dramatic _oh my god_ , every time he’s thought of the night before. 

Maybe that wouldn’t give Louis a lot to work with if he now was able to read Liam’s mind. But the daydreaming about Harry’s stubble against his skin, surely would. 

He walks slower than he usually does, the tray with a bright green smoothie that Niall’s prepared, a chia pudding, and a banana lie. 

It’s not a breakfast for kings and queens – or princes in this case – but it’s what this royalty wants. Liam just hopes he’s not there to eat it, no matter how pouty Niall gets when he comes back with the tray still full. 

Apparently the smoothie with kale and other things Liam wishes never to try again, once was more than enough, is Harry’s favourite. Niall’s taken that to heart, proper proud of it. 

He should be, since Harry’s not easiest person to deal with most days. Though, Niall could probably charm the pants off of anyone. 

Three knocks, and then he pushes the door open.

He’s out of luck, it seems, because Harry’s in bed. At least, he’s alone, so Liam doesn’t have to see anyone tiptoe their way out of the royal bed. 

The tray, he puts on the desk and then he turns to Harry. Before he leaves, he just needs to check if it’s something more Harry needs from him. 

Then he’s free. Or not _free_ , but he won’t be in this room, where it’s so awkward. 

“Good morning, Prince Harry,” Liam says as he nods his head politely, eyes on the floor. Harry’s shirt from the night before lays there in a pile with his dress pants, and Liam stares at it. 

Everything reminds Liam of how it had felt, and Liam knows this day will be miserable. He won’t get anything done, with his mind constantly ignoring his plan to forget about everything. 

Harry snorts, disbelieving and Liam doesn’t understand anything. He’s greeted Harry the same way for years. It’s always ‘your highness’ or ‘Prince Harry. Once or twice he’s used ‘sir’, but that only felt even more wrong. 

He can’t call someone who’s his own age ‘sir’, that’s just weird. 

“It’s not a good morning, is it?” Harry asks, raising one eyebrow. Liam keeps his eyes there, not letting them slip down to the swallows on Harry’s chest. 

He should just look away, but he feels like one of those moths that’s attracted to the light, unable to save himself from being burnt. 

Usually, Harry doesn’t strike up a conversation with him, so Liam’s not sure how to act. 

“It’s a wonderful day outside,” Liam says, all fake cheerfulness. Weather tends to be a safe topic, doesn’t it? 

“Well,” Harry answers, not even glancing towards the big window with the lovely green park outside. “Someone left me in the middle of something last night. Had to take care of myself, all alone.”

Liam’s about to say that Harry surely could have found a servant to help him out. But then he realises that Harry’s talking about him. His question turns into a cutoff sound, a gurgle that makes a blush spread quickly on his cheeks. 

They’re apparently talking about it. Liam didn’t think that would happen, so Harry’s confusing Liam even more. 

Liam wants to say so many things. 

That Harry can’t expect him to do things with him just because he works for Harry; that’s wrong on every level – he doesn’t think Harry meant that, but he just wants to have it said. He also wants to beg Harry that he should get to crawl into bed with Harry, kiss him again and more. 

He says neither of those things.

 

“I’ve work to do.” Liam backs out of the room. 

Liam wants to go back to sleep, but he’s no prince that gets to do whatever he wants, so he hurries back to the servant quarters. 

– – –

Liam manages to avoid Harry until next party a few days later. Somehow he’s managed to convince himself that Harry would forget about it in time, though he’s been unable.

He’s wrong, though. So, _so_ wrong. 

Harry’s breath is warm and hot against his skin, and he smells faintly of wine. He doesn’t seem overly drunk, doesn’t sway back and forth, and doesn’t slur when he says Liam’s name. 

Still, he’s obviously had wine tonight. Liam’s even served him one of the glasses. Maybe Harry only wants this because he’s drunk; maybe Harry then sees him as yet another plaything, some that’s easy. 

Liam’s more than happy to risk that right now. He’s willing to do pretty much anything to have Harry, if only for a moment. 

It’s exactly the same once more – Liam’s back against the wall and Harry all along his front, warm and solid. And so very handsome in his dark blue suit that Liam feels faint just looking at him.

“Liam,” Harry says as a greeting after too long time of them just staring at each other. 

“We shouldn’t do this here,” Liam rushes to say. Anyone could come and see them any second, and it’s not until Harry’s smile widens, he realises what he implied. “Not that I mean that –”

“I think that would have been a lovely idea,” Harry murmurs as he takes one of Liam’s hands, curling their fingers together as he kisses Liam’s cheek. 

It’s almost sweet, almost romantic, but then Harry trails kisses all the way to his mouth, and there’s a purpose to it. 

Liam knows what comes next now, and he twists his head so he can meet Harry half-way, one firm press of lips that has Liam wanting more. The kisses turn wet and deep almost at once, Harry lifting his hand so he’s got it held over his head, flush against the wall. 

Liam’s never felt so hot in his life, He can feel Harry hard against him, and it amazes Liam that he’s done that to Harry.

Liam’s hard in his pants and he would have tried to hide it, push back instead of into Harry, if Harry hadn’t been so open with it.That’s still different. This is the first time – no, this is the second time anyone’s done anything like this to him. It’s not like that for Harry; he shouldn’t feel as desperate as Liam does, just from a bit of kissing. 

Lovely kissing, but even then it’s hard to wrap his mind around for Liam. 

Liam’s just _Liam_.

Then Harry pulls away and takes a step back, leaving too much space between them. He looks perfect, curls bounced up and lips pinker than before. 

Liam wants him so much that it hurts, wants to feel Harry’s lips everywhere on himself. 

“Ops,” Harry mumbles, grinning wickedly as he pulls away. Liam breathes heavily as he stares at Harry, not understanding why Harry doesn’t touch him anymore. “Got places to be, haven’t I?” 

Liam’s too slow to reach out for Harry, his mind still caught up in lovely, warm kisses and the slow roll of Harry’s hips against his own. 

Harry leaves him there in the hall, feeling wrecked and with cheeks blooming. It feels like he should have stopped him, gotten more out of this now that he had the chance.

Louis would have been proud of him, not doing what he’s always wanted and finding a proper boyfriend rather than just a random bloke. 

Liam’s not sure where this is heading, but he knows he wants more of it. It might hurt him in the end, but he’s willing to try. 

Liam’s good at trying. 

– – –

It keeps happening, and it keeps being a secret. 

Every time Liam bumps into Harry, it ends with them kissing. It’s almost as if Harry’s seeking him out because he’s never seen Harry this much before. 

People notice him, though they don’t notice what he’s up to with Liam. It bothers Louis; Liam knows it does. He wants to know what’s going on, and Liam almost feels bad for not telling him.

Liam’s not sure if Louis would frown at him or give him a high-five, though. He’d probably do both, Liam reckons, and maybe curse at him, too. 

He’d probably try to set him up with someone else, maybe in front of Harry just to spite him. 

Honestly, Harry’s still acting like a dick most of the time. Walking around with his chin held high and a haughty attitude to everyone around him.

It’s not like it matters when it’s only snogging. And now also sex. For the first time.

He’s never seen anyone hard, though he’s had his hand on Harry’s cock through his trousers, has felt how hot and solid it is. 

It’s different like this, though. Now he can properly see every inch, dark red and a bit wet at the tip. Harry lets him take his time, though his fingers are trembling as they push away a curl from his face, murmuring, “I want to see you do this. Suck me like you’ve been dying to, use that pretty mouth of yours.”

Liam flushes hotly, hearing that; they’re in a well-lit room, and Harry can really see everything. Liam should have pushed them into a dark storage room instead, that way he could have faked his way through it more easily. 

Harry will know he’s new at this, as innocent as can be. 

A few weeks back, he’d never been kissed, and now he’s lost count of the number of times it’s happened. 

It’s a wonder that Louis hasn’t noticed – he would have said, if he had – since Liam feels like the most obviously snogged person ever, lips kissed swollen and deep pink. It still feels like a dream, maybe more so since nobody knows anything. 

Liam’s supposed to be working, not be on his knees, about to give his first ever blow job.

It’s so unlike Liam to disobey the rules like this. The pranks he’s played with Louis during work hours such tiny things compared to this.

Liam’s still in his clothes, rumpled from Harry’s hands but still on since Liam’s the one that sank to his knees mid-snog, shocking himself more than Harry. Harry just looked pleased, grin wide as he pressed his thumb against the slick swell of Liam’s bottom lip. 

(Liam’s never getting over the words ‘are you going to suck my cock for me, babe’ coming out of Harry’s mouth.)

“Come on then,” Harry murmurs when the wait must have been too long. He’s been shifting restlessly underneath Liam’s gaze several times, trapped with his black skinny jeans down his thighs. 

It’s such non-royal clothing that Liam almost can pretend that he’s with someone else. But then he glances up at Harry, and he can’t ignore that it’s probably as bad idea, all of it. 

That doesn’t stop Liam from inching that last bit forward, one hand around the base of Harry’s cock as he fits his mouth around the head. Harry makes a soft noise as he presses his tongue against the underside of Harry’s cock, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to take everything in. 

His knees hurt slightly because of the cold floor underneath them, but that’s not what he’s focusing on. It’s the way it feels so suck cock for the first time, though he’s not admitted that to Harry in words. 

How he’s stared at him at first, swallowing over and over, might have given him away. 

Harry’s cock feels bigger than he thought, and he thought it was plenty big; his lips stretching wide and mouth full. It’s wetter, too, and he can feel how he’s getting his chin wet. There’s the wet blurts of precome on his tongue, and the saliva he’s not able to swallow down. 

He would have been ashamed, think he wasn’t good enough if Harry didn’t groan so loudly when Liam tried to suck harder and he takes more in. 

“So made for this,” Harry praises, threading his fingers through Liam’s hair. He’s surely making it look like a mess, and Liam must remember to comb his hair, make sure that it doesn’t look like someone’s had their hands on him. 

If his lips won’t be telling enough. 

He’s got a feeling that he not will be able to think about anything after this. 

It’s hard to breathe, the same time as he’s working his lips up and down Harry’s cock, and he’s got to pull off after a while, blinking away a tear as he looks up at Harry.

“Good enough?” Liam asks, shocked that he’s even asking it. It feels bold. 

Harry laughs roughly and taps his cock against Liam’s lips, making him open his mouth once again. He’s deep in Liam’s mouth, holding himself still as his cockhead pushes against the softness in the back of Liam’s throat as he murmurs, “I’d give you a medal if I could.”

He feels overwhelmed, suddenly, mouth full with dick and head full with fuzziness that makes him get lost in his thoughts. If he’s good enough, maybe Harry will do this to him – and Liam wonders how the wet suction would feel around his cock, now neglected in his pants. He could touch himself, but he’s got one hand on Harry’s dick, wanking what he can’t fit in his mouth – Liam vows to be better, to be able to take more, take it all, if he gets to do this again. The other he’s got on Harry’s hip, grip tightening when Harry’s cock slips deeper, and he chokes slightly. 

Liam likes the thought that he’s leaving something behind on Harry, even if it’s just faint finger shaped bruises. 

When Harry takes his hand, gently unwrapping it from his cock, Liam’s confused at first. Doesn’t Harry like what he does? 

“Just let me do this,” Harry mumbles, face pink when Liam lifts his eyes so he can see Harry. His forehead is scrunched together as if he’s trying to hold himself back, and Liam would have smiled if he was able to with a cock shoved in between his lips. “Want to fuck your pretty lips.”

Liam lets him. Harry’s noisy, and Liam would tell him to keep it down – it’s a secret after all, but his mouth is busy, and he doesn’t want to stop even for a second. 

Liam groans and squeezes his eyes shut, puts his now free hand on top of his throbbing dick. He feels like he’s about to come in his pants, and he presses down; not sure if it’s because he wants to stop it, or if he wants to push himself that last bit. 

Harry’s got more control like this, hips snapping forward and hands in Liam’s hair holding him in place. He likes it, though he feels like he’s not able to breathe at times and gags once or twice; he’s still new after all. 

It’s the best feeling ever. 

His mouth goes slacker around Harry, too in his own head to concentrate on being good anymore. Harry’s so close as it is; Liam thinks he can feel Harry’s cock get ever thicker, and when he rubs his tongue against the underside of Harry’s cockhead, Harry swears and starts to come. 

It’s a lot; messy and salty and wet, and Liam tries his best to swallow it all. 

“Bloody hell,” Harry groans, moving his fingers from the mess that’s Liam’s hair. He looks spent when Liam glances up at him, letting his cock slip from between his lips. 

Harry slides down on the floor, panting heavily. His legs just give out, like they’re made out of noodles, and he looks absolutely ridiculous, trousers shoved around his thighs and cock still out. 

“You want to come for me?” Harry mumbles, voice slower and deeper than before even. His tone makes Liam shiver and nod. 

“Please,” Liam says as he rubs over his cock; once, twice and then his hips jump, and he bites his bottom lip to stay quiet as he spills in hot spurts in his pants. 

“Unbelievable,” Harry says, sounding far away in Liam’s buzzing ears. He’s sure he’s never come harder, or longer than this. “You did so well.”

He still feels fuzzy when he moves around so he’s sitting on the floor next to Harry, leaning against the wall. 

He needs to change trousers and go back to work, but he melts into Harry with a sigh when Harry kisses him. Work can wait a bit longer. 

– – –

Louis is sitting on top on his thighs, pressing his legs together in a try to hold Liam still when he kicks. It’s pretty useless, he’s stuck where he is, and he’s all in Louis’ mercy. 

Liam’s giggling so hard he hardly can breathe, hiccuping when he tries to pull in gulps of air. Louis’ hands are under his shirt and Liam tries to defend himself the best he can. But it’s hard with he’s got tears in his eyes and is shaking. 

Louis knows his weak spots all too well. 

Niall’s sitting next to them on the sofa in the staff's common room, amused but ignoring Liam’s plea for help. “You got yourself into this mess, Liam. You deal with him.”

It’s a wonder to Liam that Louis and Niall are still dancing around whatever they're going on – Louis is still not talking, and Liam can’t blame him since he’s not said a word about his own fling. 

Though, his own silence is a real secret while Louis refusing to talk about _his feeling_ , is just him not wanting to admit things to himself. Sometimes Liam feels like a horrible friend when he’s just want to stay in that safe bubble that’s just him and Harry. 

“Yeah,” Louis laughs and pinches Liam’s side, almost falling off of Liam when he flails hard. “If you call me lazy, this is what you get, mate.”

“If the shoe fits,” Liam gets out, voice shaking with laughter. He almost got a grip on Louis now, but he’s slippery like an eel, much more of a dirty fighter than Liam – though Liam doubts what they’re doing could be called _fighting_. 

“Aren’t you supposed to work,” a voice says, haughty and so very familiar. It doesn’t feel quite right, though. Harry never talks to him like that, not usually, so it takes him a second that realises that it actually _is_ Harry. 

As far as Liam can remember, he’s not missed an appointment he’s made with Harry. If you can call what they do that, but _dates_ also feels wrong, so Liam’s not sure what to call it. 

Louis rolls his eyes and gives Liam one last pinch before he climbs off of Liam, and sits down between Liam’s feet and Niall, so close he’s almost in his lap. He crosses his arms and looks every bit like a sullen teenager. 

“We’ve a break,” Niall says, cheerful as if he can’t feel the sour tension in the room. “Pretty sure you’ve those, too. Not sure what you’re doing here, though?” 

Anyone else, it would have sounded rude coming from. Niall just sounds curious, and Liam thinks he might start with telling Niall first. Or at least do it with him _there_. He knows he should do it, but now might be the worst time of all, so he bites his lips together, realising a bit late that his t-shirt is still pushed up, so most of his stomach is bare. 

Blushing as if Harry hasn’t seen every part of him naked, he pulls his t-shirt down and sits up. 

Harry gives him a long look that Liam can’t read, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know what Harry wants from him; he just knows that it’s something. Right now, he can’t even make himself talk to Harry, feeling like he’s been caught up in something he can’t handle. 

 

“Never mind,” Harry mutters, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t care less. Liam’s about to follow him when he turns and walks out of the room again. But then he remembers that it would be very weird, when as far as Niall and Louis know, he’s never talked to Harry before. 

“What was _that_ about?” Liam asks when he can’t come up with one good reason for Harry to be there, other than a quick snog in between Liam’s chores. He’s never done it that unsubtle before, in that case. 

“He’s such a wanker,” Louis complains, a bit too loudly Liam thinks. He really hopes Harry didn’t hear, though he’s probably heard much worse about himself before. 

“Pretty sure he’s not that bad,” Niall says, poking Louis in the thigh. “Reckons he must be bored to death in all those boring meetings.”

“You might be right, but I’ve no idea what the fuck that was about,” Louis says as he traps Niall’s hand in a tight grip when he pokes him again. 

Liam rolls his eyes when he notices the smirk Louis gives Niall. He doesn’t need to be there when they flirt; they’re basically just holding hands, neither of them seeming to even realise it. 

“I’m going to leave the two of you alone,” Liam says teasingly as he stands up. It’s possible a bit too subtle for them to realise _why_ he’s leaving, or what the teasing is about – if Louis knows, which he certainly should considering it’s not the first time Liam’s teased him about Niall, he’s keeping a straight face. 

When Niall turns his head towards Louis, all focus on him, Liam makes a kissy face. It makes Louis shake his head warningly. Liam might be in for another tickle fight, but he laughs when he walks out of the room. 

Louis should kiss Niall. No matter how much Liam jokes about it, he thinks it would be a great idea. Unlike his own crush, Louis got a real shot with his. It might be more than a few snogs and stuff before his crush gets bored and finds someone new. 

Liam will take what he can get, for as long as he can get it. Then he’ll move on, no matter how crushed he’ll be to see Harry with whoever is next. 

When Liam sees Harry a bit later, Harry’s acting like nothing happened at all. It’s like he wasn’t in the common room at all, and Liam’s too distracted by Harry’s hands on the inside of his thighs to think about why. 

– – –

“Morning,” says Niall as he sits down on a chair next to Liam. It’s breakfast time, and Liam doesn’t expect Louis to trail after him into the room. 

Louis is not one to get out of bed a second earlier than he has to. He also looks too smug, too early, and something clicks in Liam’s mind.

“Good morning,” Liam says, almost overly cheerful as he lifts his eyebrows in a question to Louis. Niall just snorts, as if he knows just what Liam’s trying to imply – he doesn’t look bothered, just shrugs and takes a big bite of his toast. 

“It’s not a good morning,” Louis mutters, voice groggy with sleep still. He looks a bit too happy as he says it, so his usual morning grumpiness makes him look like a mad kitten, hair mussed up and a disgruntled frown on his lips. 

“I’d say it’s a good morning,” Niall says, winking totally indiscreet at Louis. 

“Are you two done being idiots now, or..,” Liam trails off. If they’ve not talked, just messed around, then he might as well not say too much. 

He doesn’t want to make Louis even grumpier, this time a day. He’s even managing to eat his cereal grumpy, splashing milk on the table as he drops the spoon back in the bowl to scoop up more. 

Niall nods, looking terrible fond. And so happy that he almost glows, cheeks a bit pink as he smiles. Liam hopes he doesn’t look like that when he looks at Harry, in that case not only Harry would know, but all the palace. “I’d say that, yeah.”

“I’ve _not_ been an idiot,” Louis says, around a mouthful of shockingly coloured cereal. 

“Yeah, you have,” Liam says with a gentle smile. He doesn’t mean anything bad with it; just that he thinks Louis and Niall have pined for each other when they both so very obviously were into each other. 

Even Liam, who’s not an expert in love in any way, could tell that. 

“You shut your mouth,” Louis says, probably knowing that Liam’s right. He tends to get a bit defensive then, if only in a joking way like now. 

“Or what are you going to do?” Liam laughs, sure Louis is too tired to start a food fight or something else that would ruin Liam’s work outfit, the clean white shirt buttoned almost all the way up. 

“Might try to set you up with some hot shot again,” Louis says with a small smirk. He must remember how Liam fled the last time. 

The thing he doesn’t know, is that Liam made that happen himself. Harry is the king of hot shots – no pun intended.

– – –

There are more snogging and sneaky blowjobs in the halls; it’s exciting and scary both at once. Scary since he knows that he’s falling for Harry, though he really shouldn’t. 

There’s never been any promises, and Liam knows it’s just for fun. At least for Harry. He’s started to long for the times he gets to be with Harry. 

Liam doesn’t tell Louis, but he knows that Louis is suspicious. He knows that Louis wouldn’t like it, would think that Harry’s using him. The longer it goes on, he knows that something will have to change.

He knows he should tell Louis. It’s been going on long enough, and he’s started to feel really bad about it. He just doesn’t know how to tell him now that it’s been weeks and weeks of sneaking around. 

Liam knows he might be a bit naive about it, but he really likes Harry

– – –

It’s the first time he’s in Harry’s own room, expensive silk sheet underneath his naked back, cold compared to his skin.

Louis and Niall are busy, out on a rare date night. Liam knows they would have wondered where he disappeared to otherwise, but now there is no rush.

Well, a little bit of rush is there. Liam wants Harry to hurry up, give him what he’s been teasing Liam with for hours; it feels like. Feather light touches on the inside of Liam’s thigh, sweet kisses to his skin and a teasing bite on his hip when Liam makes a high sound in the back of his throat. 

“Please,” Liam pants out, shame over being so exposed, splayed open for Harry long gone.

Harry’s been less urgent to get his dick in him than Liam thought he would be, and now it’s Liam begging for it. But maybe that was Harry’s plan, because he’s smirking up at Liam, eyes darker than Liam’s ever seen. 

Even if Liam was blushing, it probably wouldn’t show. His skin is flushed pink from his cheeks down his chest and stomach, skin hot where his cock lays flat. 

“You’re a good boy but I’m not sure if you’ve been good enough, Liam,” Harry murmurs, sounding rough; a bit like he does when he’s had Liam’s cock in his mouth. Sitting back up on his knees, he just looks at Liam, his big hands spread out on Liam’s thighs. It makes Liam moan again, and push his hips up, uselessly trying to wriggle around until he’s got them on his cock. 

Or in him, if Harry would be so nice. 

Harry winks, his hands moving up, up, up on Liam’s thighs, and Liam holds his breath when he slides over his hole, just pressing against it with dry fingertips before sliding them down again. 

He shudders,“Not going to complain, but I’m pretty sure you’re not following the dress code.”

It’s outside of Liam’s work hours, so he can do pretty much whatever he wants – maybe except for this, but Liam chooses not to think about that when he’s got Harry’s hands all over his body. 

“Fuck off,” Liam says, surprised that he can be so cheeky with the prince of all people. Though, without the ridiculously fancy bedroom and the huge bed – that Liam’s not complaining about _at all_ – he wouldn’t be able to tell that Harry is who he really is. He’s so much more relaxed, that hardness replaced by something that reminds more of the boy he used to play with. 

Just older and a lot hotter, all tanned skin and muscles. And tattoos that Liam wants to touch with his mouth, trace with his tongue until Harry’s shivering. Maybe he will, later when they’re done with this. 

Liam can’t wait any longer. 

“You want me to call you _your highness_ ,” Liam mumbles, pretty sure he would do it. If it helped. “Of maybe you prefer _sir_ ”. 

It’s a joke. Mostly.

Harry snorts, looking surprised. He does look a bit interested, but he shakes his head. “Roll over for me,” he says instead, hands never leaving Liam when he flops over on his stomach, much more clumsy than he likes to admit. 

“Use your arms, babe. I don’t want you to choke, it’s a lot less fun when it’s not on my cock,” Harry says as he moves up the bed, opens the drawer and takes out the lube and a strip of condoms. 

The pillows are very nice, but it’s hard for Liam to breathe with his face in them, so Liam does as Harry says. His arms feel shaky when he lifts himself up, so he’s still with his hips flush against the bed, but with his weight on his forearms. 

Harry pats him on his bum, murmuring out a soft, “Look how pretty you are.”

Liam’s still not used to compliments, and hearing Harry say such a thing makes him blush more than anything. Even more than being about to get fucked. 

The bed feels nice against his cock, and he’s moving without meaning to, rocking his hips so his cockhead drags wetly against the sheets. They’re going to make a mess of the bed, and Liam briefly wonders if he’s supposed to change the sheets after this, if it counts as overtime. The thought makes him huff of a giggle, but he quiets when Harry grabs his arse, pushing so he spreads open. 

“You’re going the be so bloody tight,” Harry mumbles, sounding like he’s talking more to himself than to Liam, but Liam nods anyway. This is yet another one of the firsts he’s had with Harry – first kiss, first blowjob and everything else there in between. 

He’s sure it’ll be as lovely as the rest of the firsts, but Liam’s kind of nervous. He’s seen Harry’s cock, felt it in his hand, and it’s big. How is it even going to fit? 

“Relax for me, babe,” Harry says, noticing the tension in his body, how he goes still. “Going to open you up, have you begging for my cock before I’ll give it to you.”

Liam takes a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly. With it, he relaxes into the bed, glancing back at Harry. He’s still looking at him, neck craned, when Harry wets his long fingers with lube, slicking them together, and he swallows hard. 

He spreads his legs, arching his bum without really thinking but from the groan Harry lets out, he feels like he did the right thing. If there even is wrong, in this situation. 

“Just let me...” Harry doesn’t finish the sentence, just shuffles closer to Liam’s side so he’s on his knees just next to him. 

He lets out a shocked little moan, releasing his bottom lip from between his lips when Harry’s fingertip pushes into him, slippery with lube. It feels weird, at first, and he just blinks – it’s not much, he knows that, but it’s Harry in his body, playing with his rim as he sinks the tip in a little bit deeper every time he pushes back in. The feeling makes Liam sweat, and he can feel himself getting hotter just from the knowledge that Harry is going to fuck him soon. It burns a bit; he can feel his rim tight around Harry’s fingers, but it’s not really pain he’s feeling. 

If he is, he feels too good to filter it out. Harry keeps touching him with his free hand, fingers digging in hard on Liam’s arse – surely leaving fingerprints on the pale skin there, but Liam likes to think that he’ll see him there, when Harry never leaves marks anywhere else. 

Harry grins, fucking his finger in a bit harder when Liam moans. He starts to feel looser and the drag out and in goes easy, so he’s prepared when Harry nudges the second fingertip against his hole, pressing where he already feels full with one of Harry’s finger. 

“Just like that,” Harry murmurs as he wedges it in, enough lube to make it pleasant. Liam splays his thighs wider, pressing harder against Harry’s leg, and he nods to himself when Harry starts working his fingers out and in. 

Sometimes there are sparks between his eyes when Harry angles his hand just right. And he’s rolling his hips down harder, every time, leaking all over the sheets. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long, and he needs Harry’s cock in him before it’s over, so he tries to stop doing it. 

It’s hard, though. Mostly since Harry seems so keen on making him feel as good as possible. 

“You feel good?” Harry asks, the smirk on his face proud. As if he knows just what he does to Liam, how hard it his for him to hold his eyes open so he can see Harry. Not just close them and lose himself in it all. 

“Yes,” he agrees, head lolling forward when Harry’s fingers nudge that spot deep in him.

“You’re so bloody sensitive,” Harry murmurs hotly, eyes fixated on where he’s got his fingers shoved deep in Liam. “Sound like you’re about to go off just from me fingerfucking your pretty little arse.”

Liam feels shameless like he rarely does, nodding along to every word. Harry grins sharply and adds, “Bet you’re going to love having a cock in you. Just gagging for it, don’t you?”

“Harry,” Liam whines, unsure how Harry thinks Liam’s going to last when Harry says things like _that_. 

“Liam,” Harry teases, pulling back so he’s just got his fingers pushed into the first knuckle. Then he nods to himself, decided on something. 

“Think you can take more,” Harry tells him, patting his bum gently before he reaches for the lube tossed carelessly on the bed. 

Before Harry pushes a third finger into him, he pulls out completely, adding more lube. It feels slippery, so much wetter when he sinks three fingers in instead of just two. It takes less work than the first finger, a steady push and then he’s got his knuckles pressed against Liam’s arse. 

Liam feels his rim clutch around Harry’s fingers, the burn easing away with every pull of air he drags in. 

“So good,” Harry murmurs, flexing his fingers. 

Harry works him open for so long that he’s sweating, begging for more when Harry pulls out. Liam’s still on his stomach when Harry puts on the condom, adding more lube – spilling even more on the silk sheets – and then moves so he’s sitting on Liam’s thighs. 

His hands are back on Liam’s arse, pushing and pulling him open. But it doesn’t take long until Liam can feel his cockhead press against his rim, wider than three on Harry’s fingers even.

“Gosh,” Liam mumbles, blinking away a tear when Harry starts to fuck into him. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but he feels stretched to the max, like he’s straining around Harry’s prick, rim pink and so open. 

Harry fucks him shallowly at first, not giving him more than maybe half his cock – Liam’s not really sure how much, but he can’t feel Harry’s hips against his. Harry presses him down into the bed when he tries to fuck himself backwards, get more. Tells him to, “Wait, I’ll give it to you.”

Then Harry bottoms out with a long groan, slowly working his dick in. It makes Liam gasp, gripping the sheets underneath his hands hard. In a way, he was prepared for how it’d feel, but Harry’s cock is so big compared to his fingers, and he feels so _full_. 

“Fuck,” Liam blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut hard. It is a lot; he can feel every bump of Harry’s cock in him, where he’s pushed so deep that his balls are against Liam’s arse. 

“Love it when you swear, sweet boy as you are,” Harry says, voice rough and slow. He grabs Liam’s hips harder when Liam moves a little, just rocking back against Harry to see how it feels. 

It feels great, but he can’t move much, pressed into the bed by Harry’s weight. Harry’s basically fucking him into the bed, every shove of his hips causing him to rock down against the sheets. And Liam’s loud, so much louder than he ever would have thought that he’d be. Deep groans coming out of his mouth every time Harry bottoms out. 

“Want to see you when I come,” Liam says, feeling that familiar hot tug in his belly. He’s so close he can almost feel his orgasm build, the pressure against his cock enough when he’s got a dick, pulsing hotly in him. 

Harry murmurs something he doesn’t catch, cock slipping out of Liam with a sloppy sound when he moves up, and away from him. He lies down flat on his back, his cock deep red even through the latex of the condom. 

Liam can’t believe he’s had it in him, and he stares at it even though it’s far from the first time he’s seen it. He feels empty now, and he wants that almost feverish hot feeling in his body just before he was about to come back, so he moves up to follow Harry.

“You want me to ride you?” Liam asks, though he’s already pushing his leg over Harry’s lap. He still feels wobbly, more than before even, but Harry’s hands are there to steady him, thumbs just over his hipbones. 

Harry nods quickly, letting his eyes slide up and down Liam’s body, from his flushed cheeks down to his trembling thighs. Then he looks at Liam’s face again and says, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Liam takes it as a compliment, reaching back to take hold of Harry’s cock. The angle feels different as he starts to sink down, until he’s got every inch of it in him, resting on Harry’s hips.

He grinds down a little, his cock jerking when he gets those warm tingles in his body again. It’s leaking, precome starting to drip down the shaft, and down on Harry’s stomach, smearing between the leaves. 

“Just like that,” Harry murmurs when he starts to ride him, raising up and grinding back down. His hands are on Harry’s chest, but he wants to show himself off more for Harry, so he sits back, hands on his on thighs when he needs something to hold onto. 

He doesn’t last long like that, coming with a near silent moan all over Harry’s stomach and chest, wet pearls of come covering black ink. He can feel his arse tightening around Harry in pulses, and even with the loud buzz in his head, he can hear Harry groan out a long ‘fuck’. 

Harry moves him around so he’s leaning forward, hands resting beside Harry’s head. It makes it easy for Harry to plant his feet on the bed, and rabbit his cock up into Liam in hard, fast thrusts. He moans, his body shivering when it’s almost too much to take, but not quite. 

Harry’s loud when he comes, and Liam can feel it through the condom; hot spurts of come that make him wish that they could do it bare, that it was just him for Harry, too. 

No matter what, it feels good that it’s him that makes Harry feel _so_ good right now. That’s good enough for Liam; it has to be. 

Afterwards, Harry bribes him out of bed with a shower blowjob, Liam’s legs shaky and unstable even before Harry puts his mouth on Liam’s cock. Then he’s dragged back to bed again. 

He gets to sleep in the bed, it seems. Kissing is almost even nicer afterwards, more intimate. Harry doesn’t seem keen on kicking him out, and while Liam’s sleepy and fucked out, he knows he can’t stay.

He kisses Harry goodbye with the promise to be back.

His bed feels both small and empty when he goes to bed. He’s still exhausted, and goes to sleep almost at once, body sore in the best way he’s ever felt. 

– – –

Everything been going really well with Harry, and he’s even got a plan how to break it to Louis. Very gently after giving him a beer or two, when he knows that Louis will have a few hours free to rant at him. 

Of course, that plan goes to shit. 

“What is that?” Louis asks, eyes trained somewhere below Liam’s chin. Liam’s on top of him, doing his best to pin Louis down, which is a lot harder than it should be. 

Niall, is per usual not getting involved. One hand in a bag of crisps as he laughs at them on the sofa. 

Liam clasps his hand, high up on his neck; a blush spreading on his cheeks when he realises what Louis is staring at. Harry must have gotten carried away, the night before when he fucked Liam in his own bed, telling him to keep it down so nobody knew that he's got the prince there fucking him. It was said with such a teasing tone, knowing full well how hard Liam found it to be quiet. 

Liam’s still unsure how they ended up in his bed instead of Harry’s, which is much nicer. But one kiss led to another and then Liam forget all about the reasons it was a horrible idea. 

This is why is was a bad idea. Now Liam’s unable to not just not tell the truth anymore. Now he needs to lie outright to Louis and Niall if he wants to keep his secret. He doesn’t want that, the thought almost making him feel sick. 

Louis starts to grin, all sharp teeth, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Was that a love bite?”

Liam starts shaking his head, but changes his mind and starts nodding instead. Without thinking, he blurts out, “It was Harry. I mean, I’ve been dating him. No, not dating. We’ve been having sex. I mean –”

Okay, it seems like he’s unable to stop talking, now that he’s started. He clamps his mouth shut, glances down at Louis to see him with eyes wide open in shock. Liam certainly let the cat out of the bag, didn’t he? 

Niall swears, leaning forward in shock. It's a miscalculation on his part. Liam can only look on as he tumbles off the sofa, limbs flailing everywhere. The bag of crisps empties on the carpet, and Liam would think about the mess of it, in any other situation that this. 

This whole thing is a mess, Louis’ quietness and Niall’s bad knee worrying him. 

“Oh no, Niall,” Liam says, getting up from Louis on the floor so that he can help him up. He even goes so far that he dusts Niall off, hands brushing his shoulders. 

“No worries,” Niall says and Louis huffs and shakes his head. 

“There are lots of things to worry about,” Louis complains, though he gets up to check Niall for injuries, too. With a bit more touching than Liam, and Liam even hears him mutter a fond ‘idiot’ in Niall’s ear. 

“I’m fine,” Liam protests since he knows that Louis is talking about him. It’s ridiculous if they feel the need to worry about Liam’s virtue or something equally dumb. Especially when Louis before this wanted to practically throw him in the lap of other rich men. 

“I thought you might have a thing for Harry,” Niall muses as he bends down to pick up the crips. He frowns when noticing that it’s mostly empty, and flops back down on the sofa again. 

Louis looks like he’s about to go on that rant, but Niall doesn’t give him a chance. “I honestly didn’t think it’d happen. Not that you aren’t cute.” Niall gives him an earnest look, looking worried that Liam might take offence when Liam really understands what Niall means – it’s not like he thought that this would happen. 

“Fucking adorable,” Louis agrees, reaching out to twist one of Liam’s nipples. Revenge for not telling him, Liam reckons, hand rubbing his sore chest. Louis’ got a sharp, fast grip – one Liam’s still not learned to avoid, it seems. 

Niall nods, still earnest. “But I’d put my money down on the old lady before staff.” 

Liam faintly remembers that, so he nods. He did too, the older ladies visiting often are very pretty so it wouldn’t have been such a shock to him. 

Liam feels a bit sick; most times he’s with Harry he doesn’t think about that Harry’s sort of his employer – the state signs his paycheck, not the royal family since they haven’t got any real income except for taxes and old heritance. There’s a lot of that old money in the family still, though. He doesn’t think about that Harry’s got this power over him, that they can’t really be together, that it wouldn’t be accepted. 

Not that they’ve even talked about anything of that. Liam’s just fun and easy. Someone to amuse Harry while he’s at home. 

“No” Louis groans, putting his hands over his face. “Don’t make him sad, Niall. We can’t deal with a sad Liam, you know that, babe.”

“Sorry,” Niall mumbles sheepishly, patting the sofa next to himself. “Come have a cuddle and tell us all about how it happened.”

Louis follows him, sits down on his other side, one leg thrown over Liam’s lap. 

“I might need some time to get used to it, but we _should_ like him. Or at least try to if he’s your boyfriend,” Louis says, poking Niall with his toes on the other side of Liam. Niall nods, smiling. 

“Oh no,” Liam mumbles, pressing his face against Niall’s shoulder. They’re both such lovely friends to even try to make him feel better. It sort of helps. “We’re not like that. It’s just, well, _fun_.”

“Oh,” Louis says, quiet for a short moment before he grins and nudges Liam with his elbow. “So it just fun, eh.” His tone causes a groan from Niall. 

“Don’t tell too many details,” he begs, but he looks too amused to really care. Liam’s cheeks get even pinker. 

Liam tells them everything they want to know, blushing the whole time. He’s not lying when he says it’s fun; it really _is_ fun. It’s just that he would want more of everything, and to be able to hold Harry’s hand. 

Still, he knows that Harry doesn’t even do boyfriends. So, it’s no use wishing for things to be different when he should be pleased with what he’s got. 

– – –

Liam’s got his hands in Harry’s hair, neck tilted back so Harry gets better access to his neck. It’s still not ideal to walk around with love bites all over his skin, but once or twice, Liam doesn’t mind. 

Nobody cares much what he does. Except for Louis and Niall, and they already know. Niall finds it hilarious, and is lot less worried about it than Louis is – such a big brother type, he is. 

Liam’s had more than one talk to him, all of them the same. Liam could do better, Louis always says. Liam thinks it’s not true – who could do better than Harry? 

“I could get you a good raise,” Harry says, giving him a grin that makes his cheeks dimple. “Then you could spend all day in bed with me.”

It’s what Niall said that causes Liam to stare blankly at Harry, the words he mumbled out between kisses making Liam feel cold. 

Did Harry just call him a gold digger? Only not in those words, teasing and light instead of as an accusation. Or maybe more a whore than a gold digger, since he then basically would get money to fuck a monarch. 

While Liam thinks it doesn’t mean anything to Harry, it makes him push Harry away. 

Niall didn’t _mean_ to make Liam feel bad; he just wanted to protect him, like family is supposed to do. What Harry said, is probably what half of Great Britain would think, if this came out. Here he is, an ordinary lad sneaking kisses from the prince. 

But Harry would be wrong no matter what; Liam does plenty good in the palace. Without the people like him, nothing would run smoothly. 

He feels very little suddenly, and it must be noticeable on his face because Harry starts looking confused. Liam shakes his head when Harry opens his mouth; he doesn’t want to hear what Harry’s got to say. 

“No,” Liam says angrily, storming off, not sure where he’s going really. It might be that he’s overreacting, but it feels like he’s got right to all that anger coiling in his belly. 

It’s first when he’s in one of the rooms in the corridor he and Harry used to run away. With the door closed behind himself, he stops to think.

He didn’t mean to go there. Not really. But things were simpler back then; when he thought Harry was ordinary just like him. He never was, though. He was always someone else; he just didn’t tell Liam.

It’s one of the guest bedroom, and it’s even made up. Liam remembers it being like that back then, too. Sighing deeply, he sits down on the edge of the bed.

Liam’s been there a few minutes when Harry slowly opens the door, peeking his head in to see if Liam’s there. He walks over and sits down next to him.

“Not sure what I did wrong?” Harry says, unsure like Liam’s never heard him. “But _I’m sorry._ ”

“I don’t think we should do this –” Liam waves his hand between him and Harry, sees his face pinch together. “– thing we are doing. It’s not right.”

Liam shrugs, trying to keep his face blank. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Harry; this is not a breakup, and he won’t let Harry know how much he’s meant to him. 

For a long, _long_ time now. 

“It’s not right,” he says, eyes fixated on the floor so that he doesn’t have to see Harry.

“What?” Harry asks, confusion and shock in his voice. But he’s probably not used to be the one that’s dumped – if Liam can even call it that when they’re not dating – so Liam blames it on that. 

“It’s been fun,” Liam starts, trying to keep his tone light. He stops talking when Harry puts a hand on his thigh to get his attention, shaking his head so hard his curls bounce. 

“It’s been more than fun,” Harry says, giving him hope he doesn’t even want. He’ll only be even more crushed when he leaves the room without having more kisses to look forward to from Harry.

“Don’t,” Liam says weakly, but it’s useless because Harry seems set on talking now that he’s found Liam. Liam could walk away again, but Harry knows his hiding places, this one and the rest too. 

Harry knows the palace just a well as him, so it’s no use trying to hide from him. Harry will always find him, if he wants to. 

“This is a bit like old days, isn’t it?” Harry says, and Liam’s not sure if he’s supposed to answer, but he nods. It is a lot like that, just the two of them in a room after one of them hiding. 

Now they’ve history, though. 

“I used to have such a crush on you. Probably why I acted like such a shit. Wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone like you. Mostly because you’re a boy, but also someone that’s working in the palace. It was shitty, and I’m sorry,” Harry says, a faint blush on his cheeks. And Liam’s baffled, not sure how he could have missed that. “I still have a huge crush on you.”

“What?” Liam asks, sure he’s in some sort of alternative universe. Or that he’s drunk on one of Niall’s beer, he’s a bit of lightweight, after all. 

“And I would love for you to be my boyfriend,” Harry says, pushing away a curl from his face with his free hand, clutching Liam with a tight grip. 

Liam’s about to say _what_ again, even more baffled than before even. Baffled and happy, that is. He’s so happy that he can feel his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he starts to smile. 

They’ve plenty to talk about, but right now he just wants to say, “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Harry almost tips him backwards on the bed as he darts forward to plant a kiss on his lips, hard and long. It’s difficult to kiss when you’re smiling so hard, Liam finds, but he’s unable to stop. 

“We could use the bed,” Harry suggests, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. “See if it’s any different now that we’re a proper couple and everything. 

Liam sees no reason to say no, so he lets Harry push him back on the bed. They keep their clothes on, less messier that may.

It doesn’t feel any different. Harry’s still touching him the same, kissing him the same. Harry’s obviously telling the truth when he says he’s in love with Liam, too. 

Liam should have noticed sooner.

– – –

Liam’s told Louis to act like usual, not make a thing out of it. Of course, Louis bows as he opens the door the door and Harry stands there.

At least he didn’t call Harry ‘Prince Dick’, and Harry actually laughs and shakes his head. 

“Oh, look who we’ve here,” Louis says, his tone light. Polite, even though that might just be a part of the play on Harry. “It’s Prince Harry gracing us with his presence.”

“I guess you’re Louis then,” he says, reaching out his hand to shake Louis’ hand. 

“So Liam’s told you about me then,” Louis says, giving Liam a happy glance. He takes Harry’s hand, by the look of it trying to squeeze as hard as he can – it might be some sort of point he’s trying to make, that Harry should take care of Liam, or else… 

“Only good things, I promise,” Harry says, letting go of Louis’ hand and placing it over his heart. “Swear on my mum.”

“Good one,” Niall says, delighted. He’s the one reaching out to shake Harry’s hand; he even pats Harry’s shoulder, like he’s a mate. “I’m Niall.”

Harry nods and smiles warmly. “The smoothie bloke, I know who you are. Love your latest twist to them.”

Louis makes a gagging sound but looks proud that Harry knows who Niall is. Niall’s blushing, bashful and so cute that Liam wants to pinch his cheek.

He does just that, and then he takes Harry’s hand, leads him into the room. He’s been there once before, but now he looks relaxed, like he fits there with them.

“Happy to meet you guys,” Harry says, not done being polite. He’s got some rudeness to make up for, though, no matter that he behaved like that because he wasn’t sure how to deal with growing up in public, how to be _normal_ when nobody expects you to be.

Louis gives him a beer without any fuzz, raising his eyebrow as if to challenge Harry to complain about something. Like the cheap brand.

Harry only lifts the bottle, smiling as he thanks Louis. 

Liam’s got a good feeling in his body, and he leans closer to Harry, cuddling close as Niall starts chatting with Harry.

It doesn’t take long for Louis to be pulled into the conversation, protesting loudly when Harry says he’s not a fan of soccer. That he prefers American football.

Louis looks rather amused that their prince admits he’s rather un-British in that way. It’s an admitted flaw, and Louis has always liked someone who’s honest, more than anything.

– – –

Liam’s in Harry’s bed once more, even staying the night since Niall and Louis know where he is now. They teased him plenty about his boyfriend before he left, though. 

That’s what he can call Harry now, and even though it feels surreal – like he’s got to pinch himself every time he sees Harry – it’s his life. 

Cuddled close to Harry’s side, he rests his head on Harry’s chest, one hand over Harry’s heart. Liam thinks he’s nervous, with how fast it beats and how Harry worries his lovely bottom lip with his teeth. 

“I want you to meet my mum,” Harry says, words coming out faster than Liam’s used to from him. “And Gemma, of course. She would _kill_ me otherwise.”

Liam blinks up at Harry; his brain still slow after the orgasms Harry gave him. Did Harry just ask him to meet his family? 

“I’ve already met the queen and the princess,” he says slowly, using their titles since he feels weird about not to. It feels kind of weird to call Harry’s family by those name, though. 

“As my boyfriend, I mean,” Harry teases, skimming his fingers up and down Liam’s back absentmindedly. 

Liam lifts his head, eyes wide as it sinks in. “You’ve told your family about me?” It feels big, and his heart starts beating hard in his chest. He’s already starting to get nervous, thinking about proper etiquette. How to say hello and everything else. 

“Of course,” Harry mumbles, yawning out the words. He’s always sleepy after a round like this in bed, and while Liam wants to ask more about what Harry’s said about him.

Liam hopes it’s not that he used to skip work when he was sixteen to play with Harry. Or maybe that’s a good thing. Harry seems very fond of those times, just like Liam’s been the whole time, though they’ve both pretended otherwise. 

It feels kind of stupid when he thinks about it. Maybe he’s been no better than Louis and Niall, though he’ll never say it to them. Unless they get married and Liam gets to make a toast, then he’ll happily bring it up. 

It would be worth all the teasing from Louis then. Though, maybe he’ll say it when Louis has had a bad day anyway; Liam is that kind of friend. 

He might not have been the best at keeping to all the rules, back then. Or the last few months, but Liam just has to make sure to stick to the rules in the future. Well, most of them anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post](http://pandadepanda.tumblr.com/post/148893090679/fic-perfect-strangers)  
>  Thank you for reading, and also, comments/kodos/reblogs/likes are made of gold! <33


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